


Not Always Like This

by aurumdalseni (kyo_chan)



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, and the friends who love him, when a boy is part forest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 04:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20988848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyo_chan/pseuds/aurumdalseni
Summary: Declan heads to the Barns with some unusual news for Ronan, only to find that the subject of the news -- one Richard Gansey III -- is already there. And he's not the Gansey that Declan remembers.





	Not Always Like This

**Author's Note:**

> Coming atcha with more [ Fictober](https://fictober-event.tumblr.com/post/187637998976/fictober-2019)!  
Day 11 - “It’s not always like this.”  
This inspired me to write about some of my favorite post-series Gansey headcanons, so it was a delight to do today. Hope you enjoy!

Gansey was sitting out on the porch when Declan pulled up to the Barns and parked. Declan studied him through the windshield, and if Gansey had noticed his arrival, he didn’t acknowledge it or even turn to look. His gaze fixed somewhere out past the boxwood, beyond the rich green pastures bathed in morning light. Declan found it unsettling, and considering some of the things he’d seen, that was saying something. He got out, pocketing his keys and phone, heading to the front door. 

It wasn’t until he climbed the front steps that Gansey finally realized he was there. He tilted his head so he could look up at the oldest Lynch brother, blinking his eyes slowly, then smiling with a distant sort of fondness. The play of light and shadow across his strong features wasn’t entirely complimentary.

“Hello, Declan.”

That unsettling feeling manifested into a crawling sensation down Declan’s spine. “Gansey.”

It seemed that would be as far as the conversation went. Gansey had already looked away again, and Declan had to adjust to the lack of engagement. Getting the cold shoulder from Ronan was one thing, but it was entirely another from Gansey. He squared his shoulders and let himself into the house. Chainsaw screeched and Declan couldn’t tell if it was a greeting or an insult. Probably both, being raised by his brother. 

He bent to take his boots off just as Ronan shouted from the kitchen, “Take your shoes off, asshole.”

Grumbling, Declan headed further in, finding Ronan chopping something at the counter and Parrish sitting at the table holding a steaming mug between his hands. Maybe it was Declan’s imagination, but both of them looked tired.

“What do you want?” Ronan asked.

“You know, this is my home too, right?”

“Yeah. What do you want?”

Declan sighed and opened the cupboard with the mugs and helped himself to the coffee keeping warm in their old percolator. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he loved how many things had been given new life since Ronan moved back into the Barns — including the Barns itself. It actually felt like home instead of a dust-covered gallery of their old life. Declan found he could actually miss it, and that startled him almost as much as the encounter with Gansey on the porch or the news he was bringing to Ronan. 

“We need to have a talk, and you’re shit at picking up your phone,” Declan said, ducking into the fridge for cream.

Ronan shrugged, continuing to chop. “You’re a little late for _ that _ talk, Declan.”

Adam choked on his coffee. Even Declan had to hide a smirk of his own against the lip of his mug. He wished he was here for a better reason, and told himself he should come back more often. He took a long drink of his coffee and sat down at the table across from Adam. His smile disappeared altogether.

“Helen Gansey called me yesterday,” 

The sound of Ronan’s knife on the cutting board stopped abruptly, and Declan watched Adam exchange a look with him. He couldn’t decipher their expressions. 

Ronan set the knife down. Probably a good thing. “And?”

“You tell me. Did you know Gansey opened a trust fund in your name?”

Both he and Adam watched Ronan’s shoulders draw up, fists clenched against the edge of the counter. 

“Nope. He didn’t tell me shit,” Ronan snapped.

“Not entirely surprising,” Adam added.

“There’s one for you, too.”

That surprised him.

“While we were on the subject of Gansey’s questionable financial choices, did you know he also sold Monmouth?” 

Ronan whipped his head around, but Declan pressed on so he wouldn’t lose his nerve at the positively wounded look on his brother’s face.

“To Headmaster Childs.” 

Adam’s brow furrowed. “Why would he—?”

“Jesus _ fucking _ Christ, Gansey,” Ronan hissed. Now he was glaring in the direction of the front porch, and he looked like he was going to punch something. Maybe that something would be the wall or Gansey’s face, Declan wasn’t sure. There wasn’t a single person in the room who didn’t know how much Monmouth meant to Gansey. It was nearly as treasured as the Pig and startling to think he’d let go of it. Handing the keys over to anyone was like handing over a key to himself. Declan couldn’t help thinking that what he saw outside was a jarring indication there might not be a lot left of Gansey to hand over to anyone. He’d barely seemed to keep anything for himself. It dredged up uncomfortable thoughts of the night Matthew had gone silent like their mother, when birds screamed in the night and Ronan wouldn’t pick up his phone…

“Does this have anything to do with the zombie sitting on our porch?” Declan finally asked.

Ronan hissed. “Shut your fucking mouth.” Chainsaw hissed too.

“It’s not always like this,” Adam cut in hastily. Everything about their haunted eyes said sometimes it was worse. “Just…have some…” He fumbled for the right word; he looked like he was tripping over guilt. “The end of the school year was hard on all of us.” When he met Declan’s eyes, there was something fierce and _ other _, daring. “Figure you might know a bit about that, yeah?”

Declan finished his coffee. “A thing or two.”

“I’m sorry.” 

They all turned to see Gansey leaning in the doorway, watching them with his distant eyes, somehow sharper and yet still unfocused. As if he looked at the three of them and saw something completely different than they would see if they were looking into a mirror. His brows pinched slightly together, thumb against his lower lip. 

“There’s nothin’ to be sorry for Gansey,” Adam assured him, getting up from his chair. 

“I’m tired,” Gansey stated. “Would it be all right if I retired upstairs.”

Ronan snorted, his tone harsh because Declan felt certain he was covering up a thing that _ hurt _. “Fuckin’ retire anytime you want, old man. No one gives a shit.” 

Gansey smiled at him, and for all its vulnerable softness, it cut through them all like a knife sharper than the one in front of Ronan. “Thank you, Ronan.”

He ducked out, and Adam glanced over his shoulder at the two Lynch brothers before following him upstairs. 

Declan took a deep breath, bringing his mug to the sink. “I’ll return Helen’s call to advise she hang onto those trusts. In the meantime, I think I’ll go see the cattle and then be on my way back to DC. I called out sick today.”

Next to him, Ronan was still, knuckles white. He didn’t answer and Declan didn’t think he would. It felt like a good time to leave. Ronan’s hand shot out to grab Declan’s arm. Marks would be left behind when he let go.

“Get it back,” Ronan growled. “Whatever it takes. Get Monmouth back. He won’t be…not always like this. Do you hear me, Declan?” 

Declan had heard pain and anger in Ronan’s voice so much in the last two years that it was unmistakable now. He debated for a moment how to handle this; so used to meeting demands and insults with sharper words and fists. He’d almost forgotten how to be a big brother, but he’d be damned if he’d bury that side of him for good. He was damned already.

Declan pressed his free hand to the back of Ronan’s shaved head, pulling him close. It looked nothing like a hug, but it felt like the closest thing they’d had in a while. 

“I’ll do what I can,” he promised.

This time, his promise wouldn’t be a lie.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me about TRC and the Raven Boys at [my blog](http://oldkingyounggod.tumblr.com)!


End file.
